


No, Siriusly

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Future Fic, Other Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-11
Updated: 2006-03-11
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:13:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8086699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: It's been 22 years. Archer/m. (07/08/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Dedicated to Trouble and Gypsy, who are still looking for Lisa.  


* * *

Jonathan Archer entered his apartment wearily and hung up his coat. Winter in San Francisco wasn't usually that bad, but as he got older, Jon found he got cold more easily.

He headed to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. Dealing with Ambassador Popsicle— He stopped and forced himself to use the correct name.—Ambassador _Poughsik_ gave him a headache; he deserved a beer. Hell, he deserved a _keg_!

A gentle bell sounded throughout the apartment, loud enough to be heard, but soft enough to be ignored. Archer raised his eyes toward the ceiling.

"Yes, Lucile?"

The A.I. announced quietly, "You have one message waiting, Admiral."

Jon sighed. "Tell me it's not from Pop— Poughsik," he muttered.

"It's not from Pop— Poughsik," the A.I. repeated obediently.

Archer waited a few moments, but Lucile was very literal. She wouldn't tell him who it _was_ from unless he asked her directly. He rolled his eyes. He'd have to get someone in programming to loosen her up a bit, sometime.

"Fine. Play message."

He sat down on the couch with a leg tucked under him, beer resting on his knee. The blank wall across from him flickered and turned black, then a star chart slowly faded in, one star getting brighter and brighter, until it outshone all the rest. White text typed itself next to the star:

TOUCH HERE.

Jon looked at it puzzedly, but nothing changed. With a soft growl, he got up and approached the wallscreen. "If this is spam, so help me..."

He reached up and gently tapped on the bright white star, then stepped back. The star shimmered, then grew to take over the screen, and within its brilliance, a picture began to form. A head. Four feet. A tail. Warm brown eyes, brown and white fur: a beagle.

"Porthos!" Archer exclaimed in amazed recognition.

HE FINALLY MADE IT, JON, the screen told him. NOW SIRIUS REALLY _IS_ A DOG STAR.

Archer laughed. Twenty-two years it had taken for Trip Tucker's plan to come to fruition, but it _had_ happened. Finally.

Two arms suddenly enveloped him and pulled him back against a warm chest, and Jon relaxed in his lover's embrace. "Good ol' Porthos," he murmured. "What a great pal he was..."

"Good memories?"

"Mmm." Jon turned in his lover's arms. "Thanks, babe."

"For what small part I played, you're welcome. Want to reward me by coming to bed? Unless Popsicle tired you out...?"

Archer grinned, thinking of the many times he'd challenged his beloved beagle with these very same words: "Race ya!"


End file.
